I feel badly for Beth sometimes. She loooves to talk on the phone. Loves, loves, loves it. Me, I hate it. The only thing worse than having the phone ring is being on it already when another call beeps through on call-waiting. So I feel badly for her because our telephone conversations are, well, nothing to call home about.

Here’s a transcript of one of our recent calls from my end:

Ring!

Hello? Hey.
…
Yeah.
…
Okay.
…
Okay.
…
Okay
…
No.
…
Okay.
…
Okay.
…
Yeah, I know.
…
Okay.
…
Okay.
…
Ha ha ha.
…
Okay.
…
Okay.
…
All right, bye. Love y–
…
Okay.
…
Okay.
…
Okay.
…
Okay, I’ll talk to y–
…
Okay.
…
Okay.
…
Okay.
…
Okay.
…
All right, by–
…
Okay.
…
Okay.
…
Bye.

Hang up.

I honestly wonder sometimes why she married me … and why she keeps calling.

One of the program directors here is a huuuuuge Hanson fan, and she’s (rightly so) very defensive about it. She was expounding on their virtues, which include the fact that they write their own music and play their own instruments and produce their own records and blah and blah and blah … and then the poor girl just flat-out lost her damned mind.

“They’re just like the Beatles!” she said.

Oh, how we laughed at her.